


Parker Luck Meets Murphy's Law

by comealittlecloser



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesiac Bucky Barnes, BAMF Peter Parker, Civil War Fix-It, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Homeless Peter Parker, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Protective Avengers, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 22:53:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18486100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comealittlecloser/pseuds/comealittlecloser
Summary: May died with Ben. Turns out, hiding a secret identity from abusive foster parents is even harder than from family.Now, Peter's on the run from CPS, and struggling to adjust to his new life on the streets. Grief clouds his every step, but he finds brief solace in protecting New York as Spider-Man. As Peter Parker, though, nothing could have prepared him for the crushing loneliness.That's until he meets a fellow homeless teen, who seems to have experienced as much tragedy as he has. They settle into a humble routine, before it's torn apart by the intrigued Avengers, and their little family expands exponentially.





	1. Vigilantes

“Is this guy bothering you?”

Peter announced his presence, jumping to land in his signature position in the alleyway. The homeless girl was being cornered by some sleezy-looking business man who had followed her down the closed-off side street. She didn’t seem distressed, but he wanted to make sure, having seen similar situations go very downhill, very quickly.

The man whipped around immediately, brandishing a polished hunting knife. His hair was greasy and falling into his eyes as they bore into Spider-Man, his fancy suit rumpled all over.

Peter was distracted by the weapon, and forgot about the girl momentarily, before she peeked over the shady man’s shoulder on her tip-toes.

“Not for long.” She stated matter-of-factly.

In a flash, she tossed a small, silver cylindrical device into the air. As it spiralled, it began to unfold into a long bar until it was at its full length when she caught its middle and gave it a thrust. Before Peter knew it, she had knocked the man off his feet, and promptly jutted the pole into his stomach. The man shouted out as he fell, and heaved a raspy groan when stricken again. The girl took the advantage to step on his hand with her full strength, before kicking his knife away. She gave his head a firm and final whack, knocking him unconscious in an instant.

Meanwhile, Peter was standing dumbfounded as he watched the scene happen, and realised that he hadn’t helped at all.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, taking a few steps towards the girl.

She closed the bar with an expert twist, returning it to its compact size, before shoving the disguised weapon into her pocket. She ignored his comment as she stretched her arms and sunk to her knees by the goon’s unconscious body.

“That was amazing.” Peter spoke again.

The girl looked to him then, the corner of her lips lifting slightly as she replied, “Thanks, man.”

She scanned over his form with a scrutinising eye, and Peter felt like he was under a microscope for a second. She seemed to be thinking as she cocked her head to the side and looked to his goggles again.

“I appreciate the effort, Spidey, I really do. But I don’t need saving.”

Peter chuckled a little, “Clearly. So, uh, do you have a phone? Like, to call the cops on this guy?”

She returned her attention to the man and began patting his body down, feeling over his pockets and coat raptly.

“Yeah, just gimme a second here.” She muttered as she retrieved a wallet from his breast pocket.

The girl rifled through it casually, forking out all the cash and sliding his ID back into the pocket with ease. She held the notes to the sun as she thumbed through them, her skeletal hands trembling slightly in the finger-less gloves.

“Wait…what are you doing?”

The girl ignored him again, instead nodding to herself and smiling at her prize.

“This should get his victims a nice meal, maybe a new coat, or a blanket, or something. Not enough for the needed therapy though.”

She chuckled darkly to herself, placing the bills down her shirt, before noticing Peter again as she looked up.

“What? You’re not defending this guy are you?” She raised an accusatory eyebrow.

“No! I just- I don’t know.” Peter fumbled.

“Are you gonna stop me?” She interrogated, glare daring him to.

“Uh, I guess not. I just usually don’t rob the criminals I take down.”

She found a phone in the other pocket, and also secured it down her shirt nonchalantly.

“Well, I took this one down,” She countered, “And I’d rob every rapist if I could.”

Peter blanched, “He’s a rapist? I mean I guessed, but how do you know?”

The girl rose to her feet, dusting her hands off as she scanned Spidey over yet again.

“I’ve been tracking him for a while. Took some time, but the bastard showed himself eventually.”

“Woah, I had no idea about this guy.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” She spoke casually, as if discussing the weather, “Not unless you’re on the streets. He messed with some of my friends out here, and friends of friends, and so on.”

The girl waltzed over to the wall then, picking up her backpack and lugging it over her shoulder with a wince. Attached to its sides were a yoga mat and a sleeping bag.

“You’re homeless?” Peter asked.

“…you couldn’t tell?”

“Well, I guessed, but I didn’t wanna assume.” He explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hm,” She hummed thoughtfully, “How sweet of you.”

Her tone was somehow sarcastic yet genuine at the same time, like a thinly veiled sincerity, only there if you looked closely enough. Peter was intrigued.

“I am too, actually,” He blurted, stumbling over his words, “Homeless, that is.”

The girl took a subtle step forward, eyes lighting up with something Peter couldn’t recognise.

“No shit!” She exclaimed in excitement, “The famous Spider-Man, homeless.”

She apparently found the thought humorous.

“Where are you camped out?”

Peter answered without thinking, “The roof of that blue office building on sixth.”

She nodded appreciatively, commenting, “That’s a good spot. Hidden, no one bothers you up there. Plus it blocks out the wind.”

“Yeah!” Peter nodded along enthusiastically, happy to be talking to someone who understood for the first time in months.

The girl looked down to the body, then, contemplating what to do.

“Do you reckon you could web him up just in case?” She finally asked as she absent-mindedly picked up the discarded hunting knife and slipped it under her sleeve.

“Oh yeah, sure.”

Peter was quick to thwip an excessive amount of webs over the man, as the girl pulled out a busted up old Nokia and dialled 911. She begun striding towards the mouth of the alley as it rang, before twisting around and walking backwards as she faced Peter.

“It’s been an honour, Spider-Man.” She declared, giving a quick mock salute as Peter waved for just a little too long.

It was then that he realised; he had never gotten her name.


	2. Misery Loves Company

Peter was beat by the time he finished patrol. After thwarting a few muggings, infiltrating a _very_ serious arms deal, and walking some drunk girls home, he was ready to hit the hay. His hunger was steadily growing into stabbing pains as his powers ate through his already high metabolism, and his healing factor demanded fuel. It would be difficult to sleep with the roaring in his stomach, but he needed rest more than anything at this point.

His limbs dragged like lead as he fumbled over the top of the roof. He tore his mask from his head sluggishly before he rounded the corner to his little concrete cavern, tossing the flimsy thing in the general direction of his bag.

“Shit!”

Peter yelled as he noticed the figure seated within the metal frame of the railing. Under the glow of the city lights below, the homeless girl from the other day lounged on the very edge of the cavern. She eyed Peter curiously as she took another bite from the plastic wrapper in her hands.

“Wait- I can explain. This isn’t what it looks like, I swear.” Peter fumbled for excuses, while the girl stared at him completely unbothered.

“I’m not Spider-Man. In fact, I don’t even know you!”

The girl nodded, still chewing. Peter eyed the mask, lying on the ground next to her feet, out of reach. He whipped around quickly, turning his back to her gaze. It was dark, he could barely see her. Maybe she didn’t get a good look at his face.

“I’m gonna leave now. Back to my, uh, family. And my house, that I have. Right.”

He halted when she barked out a laugh.

“Dude, it’s okay.” She said to his back.

Peter sighed to himself, slowly turning back to face her. She looked him over once more while she chewed, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. When she swallowed, the girl untangled herself from the railing and slid gracefully to stand before the unmasked Spider-Man.

“You know, I really love 7-11,” She announced, starting on a tangent as she gestured with the half-eaten sausage roll she was holding, “A whole meal for two bucks _and_ free tomato sauce. They make them almost as good as they do back home, too.”

“What are you doing here?” Peter demanded, “Are you spying on me or something?”

He was still freaking out a little about this stranger seeing his face. His words and his shoulders were tense as he was frozen in place, uncharacteristically defensive.

“Chill, bro. I was just bored, I wasn’t expecting you to reveal yourself to me straight away. I mean at least take me to dinner first.” She tried placating him with a shrug and a joke.

“Oh, hey,” She added, raising the sausage roll and pointing at it with her whole hand, “Dinner.”

Peter shook his head, but loosened up a little, nonetheless. He started pacing, then, running a gloved hand through his greasy hair.

“I can’t believe this.” He muttered.

“Really, man, it’s okay. It’s not like I have anyone to tell. Also, I have a super bad facial memory. I’ll probably forget what you look like tomorrow.”

The girl banged her head lightly with the palm of her hand, at that comment. She sagged her shoulders as she looked the boy over, filling the silence with chatter in an attempt to calm him.

“This thing don’t work as good as it used to,” She continued, this time knocking her head twice with a fist, “Everyone thinks I’m crazy, anyway, no one would believe me. What would I even say to them? ‘Hey so I saw Spider-Man’s face. Yeah, he looks like every white guy in the country.’ No offence.”

That got his attention. Peter ceased his pacing, hand paused in his hair as he looked over to the fellow homeless teen. He gave her a good look for the first time, and saw an honest young girl. He looked her over carefully, like she had with him earlier, and felt a pang of sympathy for her. It wasn’t like him to scan a situation for details, usually he just throws himself into things recklessly. But the technique seemed to be working for her, so he gave it a try.

She continued rambling, probably a nervous talker, and he was so tired that he hardly noticed when her stream of words faded into the far background of his mind.

He followed the line of the scar that ran over her left eye. The sclera was clouded over, and most of the eye had filled up with blood, making it look almost completely black. He hadn’t thought about it before, but now wondered how the hell a teenage girl got that particular injury; an injury that would stay with her the rest of her life. He could understand why someone would think she was crazy. After all, she had just successfully uncovered Spider-Man, and didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

He thought about the thinking process she probably went through before coming here. Maybe she was lonely, or didn’t have anywhere else to go. He understood how painful loneliness could get. Maybe she realised how lonely he was, homeless with a secret identity, and figured they could both use the company.

He noticed her hair, unevenly chopped and fairly matted. She probably did it herself. He noticed the freckles scattered across her pale skin. He noticed the heavy, dark bags under her eyes, and how she smiled so brightly despite them.

He couldn’t see most of her body under the huge black hoodie she wore, but from what he could tell, she was seriously underweight. That wasn’t surprising since she was homeless. She had also called a half-size sausage roll an entire meal.

Then Peter decided; he would accept the company, and hopefully she would enjoy his. He had forgotten what it was like to have a friend, anyway.

“And then _she_ was crying, and I was like-”

“What’s your name?” He blurted, finally speaking, interrupting her empty babble.

“Oh, you’re back. I’m Ruby.” She hopped off the railing, having sat back down at some point.

“I’m Peter,” He muttered tiredly, jerking a hand out to shake, “Nice to officially meet you.”

The girl- Ruby- flinched back violently for a second, but quickly covered it up. She stared at his palm briefly, before covering hers with the sleeve of her hoodie and shaking his hand. Strange. Peter guessed she had some issues with touch, or maybe even germs. There were probably multitudes of quirks to his new friend.

Ruby flashed him a smile as she slid down the cavern’s wall to sit with her legs drawn up in the corner. Wordlessly, Peter nodded at her before turning to his bag and changing into comfier clothes, behind the wall, trying his best to layer up against the cold.

When he came back around, he was met with a sausage roll to the face, quickly snatching it out of the air, thanks to his reflexes. He looked to the perpetrator, whose face remained impassive aside from the faintest of smirks.

“Nice catch, Spidey. Figured you’d be hungry, being not only a teenage boy, but a homeless, super-powered, teenage boy.”

He glanced at the sausage roll in his hands, no longer warm, and barely longer than his index finger. It wasn’t much, but as he crinkled the plastic absent-mindedly, it felt like he was holding a bar of gold. Peter looked back to Ruby then, back at her skeletal form, and felt the familiar sting of guilt.

“I can’t take your food.” He mumbled, through the involuntary salivation the weight of food had triggered in his mouth.

Ruby scrunched her eyebrows and tilted her head as she stared up at the boy, before fishing around in one of the many pockets of her cargo pants.

“Tomato sauce?” She offered, pointedly ignoring the protest.

Peter looked between her outstretched hand, where a single ketchup packet lay, and the food he still held tightly in his. He gave in when his stomach chimed in with a vicious roar.

The girl chuckled lightly as Peter grabbed the packet with a quickly mumbled thanks, before tearing into the food. The ketchup was squirted hastily and the roll was demolished within two bites. He couldn’t even be bothered to be embarrassed when he noticed Ruby’s eyes following him. Instead he cleared his throat and thanked her again.

“Any time, Spider-Guy.”

Peter scoffed, tossing a glance in her direction, before turning to set up his make-shift bed. He heard Ruby humming as he lay down the garbage bags filled with his clothes and threw the ratty blanket over the pile. It was a pleasant tune she hummed and drummed along to on her knees while she waited for him to be done. Peter latched onto it keenly, realising how much he had missed another’s presence.

He then stacked his backpack, costume, flashlight, and water bottle in the corner beside his little set-up, and heaved himself on top of it, letting his back rest against the wall behind him so that he was facing his new friend, sitting with his legs stretched out perpendicularly to the ‘bed’.

Ruby huffed a faint laugh, “Nice set up.”

Peter shook his head sheepishly, bringing his gaze to his fidgeting hands.

“In my defence, I’m still pretty new to this whole thing.”

Ruby looked him over yet again, dipping her gaze to make eye contact as she reassured him, “Stick with me, kid, and you’ll be a pro in no time.”

Peter snapped his head back up to glare amusedly at the short girl.

“We’re, like, the same age.” He countered, tone incredulous.

“Physically, maybe,” She turned her head to look to the sky dramatically, “But spiritually, I’m the oldest there is, young one.”

For the first time in a while, Peter actually laughed. The sound felt foreign coming out of his mouth, and it rattled his dry throat, causing the chuckles to transition into a coughing fit. Ruby renewed the laughter as she watched him curl in on himself and blindly reach for his water bottle. He chugged down on it for a few seconds, leaks dribbling down his mouth and neck in his desperation. He wiped the excess with the back of his hand as he stared down Ruby, laughing at him even harder than before. His glare didn’t last long before he chuckled again, too.

Peter set the water bottle down with a clink, his gaze scanning over Ruby’s face for details as he implored, “How old are you, actually? I’m seventeen, you don’t seem much older.”

Ruby shifted against the concrete, letting her legs dangle. She hummed slightly, her pupils shooting to the side as she thought over the question. Peter wasn’t sure why it involved any thought.

“It depends,” She decided, looking back to Peter, “Do you know the date?”

Peter hesitated a moment, taken aback, “Uh, it’s sometime around March, I’m pretty sure.”

“Ah. Guess I’m seventeen as well, then.”

“Oh. W-When was your birthday?”

“February the second. That makes me about twelve percent through my time of being a dancing queen, young and sweet.” She shrugged with a forced chuckle.

Peter tried to smile in return, but it probably came across as more of a grimace as the joke fell flat. They were silent for a minute. The gravity of the situation pressed down on them with a grudge, highlighted by the stark contrast between a traditional seventeenth birthday, and one that passed by unnoticed. Peter felt the diminished breeze rushing around them like a cruel reminder of their time passing, of wasted youth.

Ruby sighed. She turned to her bag tucked into the opposite corner and tugged out her sleeping mat with bruised knuckles.

Peter cleared his throat awkwardly, stuttering quickly, “Y-Yeah, we should get some- some sleep…good idea.”

He watched from under his blanket, heavy eyelids threatening to close on him, as she unrolled her sleeping bag and slipped inside it, carefully pulling something Peter couldn’t see from its hood. Finally, she hooked her arm through the strap of her thin guitar case and adjusted her sleeve, leading Peter to remember the knife she probably still had concealed inside it.

 “Good night, Ruby.” He whispered to her back.

There were a few moments of silence as Peter resigned himself to sleep, turning over. He cringed as the garbage bags rustled underneath him, seeming so much louder now that another person was there.

But then he heard a croaky voice from behind him.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

It was tentative. The question lingered in the frigid air with a weight that Peter almost didn’t notice.

“Yeah-Yeah, of course.” He rushed to reassure her.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Peter pushed every ounce of sincerity he could manage into his tone.

“Okay…good night, Peter.”

Wind billowed around them, but the cavern of the long-abandoned elevator kept them safe.

“Good night, Ruby.”


	3. For A Brief Moment, Everything Is Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are liking it so far :-)

Somehow, Peter woke up before Ruby. He had always been a light sleeper, especially after the bite enhanced his senses and made the bustling streets of New York near impossible to ignore. But considering how exhausted he had been, he was amazed that his friend could sleep even longer.

Peter checked his watch, thankfully still running. It was midday, and he felt slightly better with the albeit abysmal amount of food in his stomach, and the long sleep he had had. His muscles still ached as he sat up carefully, ribs pounding from the beating he had taken the previous night. Lack of food and rest was not doing well for his spidey sense, nor his healing factor. But still, he had slept relatively well all things considered, which would hopefully aid in kick starting his healing.

He looked over to Ruby then, still deep in sleep, eyebrows scrunched together tightly. She was curled into a ball within the sleeping bag, occasionally twitching. He took in her pouted lips, and her grimace, and realised why she would be so tired. Her fitful sleep looked anything but restful. She must be running on fumes most of the time.

Peter considered waking her up, but decided she probably needed as much sleep as she could get. He thought about going on an early patrol, or finding her some breakfast with what little money he had from working as an assistant for Dr Ritz. But then he remembered her tentative question from last night. He couldn’t leave her before she woke up. Looking her over, he felt like he could never leave her. He had only known the girl for an accumulative couple hours, but already felt a connection to her. He had been wrong about this type of thing before, but no one has ever claimed that Peter learnt from his mistakes.

So, to pass the time, Peter pulled out the newspaper he had stolen (it was only a couple dollars and he didn’t have much in terms of entertainment, but he still felt guilty about it) and set to work on the puzzles page, alternating between the sudokus and crosswords.

Three crosswords later was when Ruby finally stirred from her sleep. Peter didn’t notice as she slowly cracked her eyelids open, blinking the sleep away. He also didn’t notice when those same eyes bulged out of her head upon finding the teenage boy across from her. He did, however, notice when his spidey sense blared and the girl came lunging at him with a knife.

On instinct, he tossed the newspaper aside and shot a web over the weapon, effectively disabling the assailant and webbing her hand to the wall behind her.

They both breathed heavily for a few moments, staring the other down. Ruby roamed her eyes across the homeless boy, trying to connect the dots, before it finally came back to her.

“Shit. Peter, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot.”

Peter sighed in relief, sagging his shoulders and dropping the defensive position.

“It’s okay,” He assured the still shaken teen, “Sorry I webbed you. Reflex.”

Peter gestured to the web-shooter adorning his wrist, as Ruby looked between it and her hand bound to the wall beside her. The webbing covered the knife, rendering it useless, and spanned down her wrist, attaching to the concrete securely. She gawked at it with fascination.

“You really are the real thing.” She muttered, mostly to herself, as she prodded the webbing with her free hand and tilted her head to further observe it.

“Yeah, uh, sorry again. That’ll dissolve in a couple hours.” Peter gave her a flat smile.

Ruby looked to him incredulously, “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Unfortunately not.”

The girl shifted to sit against the wall, banging her head on the concrete with a thud.

“I suppose I deserve this for trying to stab you.”

Peter chuckled as he too shifted to rest against the wall behind him.

“Suppose so.”

“Dude, I legit forgot who you were. I mean, to be fair, meeting Spider-Man under the mask seemed more like a dream as opposed to reality. I tend to get the two mixed up.”

She snickered half-heartedly, averting her gaze subtly.

Peter followed her line of sight, finally catching a glimpse at what he couldn’t see the night before in her sleeping bag. It was a dirty white teddy bear. The head was round and plush, matching the short arms dangling beneath it. The rest of its body was a small blanket, edges of satin with a heart on its chest. Ruby blushed as she noticed his staring, quickly shoving it back inside the sleeping bag that she was still in.

“It’s cute. Kinda wish I had grabbed mine before I left.”

Ruby snapped her head back up to him, a slight smirk twitching at her lips.

“Thanks. His name is Sooky.” She mumbled.

Peter grinned in response.

He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter, “So, uh, I can go grab us some breakfast.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I have some breakfast bars in my bag.”

She dragged her bag closer before unzipping the front pocket and retrieving two muesli bars, and two oatmeal ones. She tossed one of each to Peter, then ripped into hers with her teeth.

Peter glanced at the bars in his hands, yet again feeling guilty for taking her food. The hesitance was quickly squandered by his hunger though.

“As long as I get to buy us food next time.” He mumbled through the grains in his mouth.

“Sure thing, Spider-Guy. And don’t speak with your mouth full, you heathen.” She scolded.

Peter snickered, “Sorry, Mom.”

They ate in silence for a minute, both devouring the bars quickly.

“Where do you get your money, anyways?” Peter asked, this time making sure his mouth was empty.

“I do aerial silks at a club some nights. Pays pretty good, especially since I’m, like, the only one that can do it half-decent. And before you say anything, it’s not stripping. It’s performance.”

The girl pointed at him with raised eyebrows, and Peter rose his hands in mock defence.

“No judgement here. Even if you pole danced, that shit takes serious muscle.”

“I know right! I wish I could do it; I’m always amazed by the other girls that do. I’m telling you, they have thighs of steel, man.” She nodded in his direction, “Oh, and I also do some busking, which is fun.”

She poked her thumb at the guitar case beside her.

“That’s really cool, man.” Peter replied in awe, “Wait, but how do you get into a bar if you’re underage?”

“Fake I.D. Means I get paid to a debit card as well since they think I have an address.” She stated smugly.

Peter gave a low whistle, “Sick. I have to get paid under the table.”

Ruby cocked her head to the side, “Where do you work?”

“I’m an assistant for this scientist. Shit pay, but it’s the only way I can get access to the equipment for my web fluid, you know?”

“Ah, so that’s how you do it. You must be some kind of genius, then.”

Peter chuckled humbly, “I wouldn’t exactly say that. I just know my way around a lab.”

“Still, this shit is impressive.” She countered, looking to where her hand was still webbed to the wall.

“I guess,” Peter rubbed the back of his neck, “I also sell pictures of Spider-Man to the Daily Bugle.”

“Selfies. You sell selfies.”

Peter scoffed, “Well if you put it that way.”

“Anyways, I’m almost finished with my latest book, so I reckon I’ll take advantage of being stuck here for a couple hours and crack it out.”

Ruby dug through her bag, pulling out a thick, hard-cover book.

“Good idea.” Peter agreed with a smile, returning to his newspaper.

He absorbed himself into the paper, finishing the puzzles in a flash before moving on to the comics, then giving into the temptation to read about himself. Overall, Spider-Man had mixed reviews from the public, some recounting stories of heroism, others preferring to rant about vigilantes. The owner of the Daily Bugle in particular, loved to refer to him as a menace. Peter didn’t care too much about what others thought about him, though, especially since no bad review could rival his own self-doubt and guilt. Still, it was nice knowing his efforts were appreciated by some.

He was snapped out of his reverie by a loud gasp from the girl across from him. He checked on her in alarm, but was relieved to see she was merely engrossed in her novel. Peter raised an eyebrow at her, to which she was completely oblivious, though she raised her head for the first time in what felt like ages with shock and concern written all over her face.

“There’s only twenty pages left, and everything’s gone to shit!”

“Sounds like every day of my life.” Peter chuckled.

Ruby smiled slightly, but mostly ignored his comment.

“Caius deserves so much better than this.” She muttered to herself before returning to the book.

Peter shook his head in amusement.

Some time passed before she slammed the book closed and tossed it to the ground. She didn’t say anything, opting to remain silent as she processed the ending.

After about two hours or so had gone by since she had tried to stab him, the webbing trapping Ruby to the wall finally started to come loose. Peter looked up as she tore her hand from the concrete with a grunt before shaking it limply and flexing her wrists.

“As annoying as that was, I’m still amazed by this stuff.”

“Thanks?”

Ruby smirked at him as she wiggled out of her sleeping bag, before she stood to her full height, stretching her arms above her head and yawning dramatically.

“Right, well I reckon I’ll hit the public bathroom, try to clean myself up a little. I gotta return this book too, pick up some new ones, and CDs to learn some new covers for my busking. What are you gonna do?”

“Uh, well I gotta get to work in…” Peter checked his watch absent-mindedly, “an hour or so. I’ll probably find something to eat before I head off. Then I gotta start patrolling.”

“When do you reckon you’ll be back here?” Ruby questioned, rifling through her bag and gathering toiletries.

“Probably pretty late. Depends on the criminals’ schedules, y’know?”

Ruby giggled in response, heaving her bag and guitar case over her shoulders. The luggage seemed far too heavy for her small frame. He could only imagine what a strain carrying it around all day did on her.

“Wait,” He held out a hand before prying the elevator doors open, “You can keep your stuff in here. No one else is really strong enough to open it, so it’ll be safe, but you should keep the stuff you’ll need with you.”

Ruby eyed the elevator thoughtfully, turning to Peter with a sceptical look.

“Benefits of super strength,” He shrugged, “Promise it won’t fall, this thing has been holding up for months.”

The girl grinned, dropping her heavy bag into the elevator with a chuckle. She retrieved a much smaller bag to keep her essentials in, swinging it over her shoulder with ease, along with her guitar case.

“Dude, that is hella convenient. Literally a weight off my shoulders. Thanks.”

“No worries,” He smiled back, “After you.”

Peter gestured to the fire escape as he strung his own backpack over his shoulders.

“Such a gentleman.” Ruby curtseyed sarcastically, as he shut the elevator doors shielding their belongings.

\--------------------------------

By the time Peter made it back to their roof, he was yet again, completely exhausted. Except this time, he came bearing a plastic bag filled with groceries, determined to return the favour. He rounded the corner sluggishly, and found Ruby curled up in her corner with a single headphone in, connected to a compact CD player by her side. She strummed a few chords, testing them out and scribbling hastily into a notebook. The musician didn’t seem to notice Peter approaching, and jumped when he crouched into view.

“Fuck!” She exclaimed, ripping the earbud out, “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Sorry,” Peter chuckled, falling backwards from his crouch to sit cross-legged, “Whatcha doin’?”

Ruby paused the CD and let the guitar rest on its front across her lap, “Trying to figure out this god damn song, but it’s a tricky one.”

Peter looked to the writing across the pages in front of him, chord names scribbled out, structure listed, and notes on guitar techniques and dynamics that he couldn’t understand.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Hope so. It’s one of my favourite songs.”

Peter hummed appreciatively, “So this is how you learn all your covers?”

“Yeah, I borrow CDs from the library then try to figure out the main chords and put some kind of composition together from there.”

“All by ear?”

“Mhm.” Ruby whirred her confirmation.

“Impressive.”

“Not really.” She leant back, averting her gaze.

Peter lowered his head, trying to maintain eye contact, “You ever accept a compliment?”

She glanced up to him then, snickering softly, “About as often as you do.”

“Touché.”

Ruby chuckled again as Peter rose and pried the elevator doors open, pulling out his bag to change into his civilian clothes for the night.

“How was patrol?” She questioned, zipping her guitar away, before also retrieving her bag and finding a new change of clothes.

“It was alright, nothing much happened. Stopped a couple bullies chasing this kid, walked some drunk girls home again, caught a car thief.”

“Such a hero.” Ruby teased.

Peter stripped off his costume before changing into sweats, two long-sleeved shirts and a hoodie. He turned in time to see Ruby’s back as she peeled her last layer off. He knew that she was underweight, but hadn’t seen the full extent of it. Her spine jabbed through her skin, as did her knobby shoulder blades and ribs; almost just skin and bones. There were bruises, as well, adorning her back and wrapping around her waist, probably from the backpack. She must bruise easily being so malnourished. Her lack of fat also explained her fatigue; her body would be working in overtime to keep her moving.

He felt concern consume him, so much so that he didn’t think twice as he reached for the bag of food and placed it beside her.

“You need to eat.” He stated, leaving no room for argument.

She tugged a hoodie over her shoulders finally, and turned to glance at the food.

“Aw, sick, I’m starving.” She began rummaging through the plastic bag.

Peter had never agreed with a statement more in his life.

The girl licked her lips as she pulled out the contents of the bag, setting them before herself and her friend. Peter had bought a pack of apples, peanut butter, a loaf of bread, and a packet of ham, as well as cheese. He had also thrown in multiple protein bars.

“Good thinking, my dude. I’ll get us groceries next time.”

Ruby opened the bread, ham, and cheese, and set to work putting together four sandwiches.

“Don’t worry, I don’t need any. I already ate.”

It was kind of true. The drunk girls had been grateful and bought him a large fries from a 24-hour McDonalds; not nearly enough for his metabolism, but it was something.

Ruby looked to him sceptically, “You sure? There’s plenty, and I can’t finish it all myself.”

“Save the rest for later.” He insisted, pushing the food towards her.

“If you say so.” Ruby shrugged, digging into her sandwich.

Peter relaxed slightly watching her eat, satisfied that he had been able to not only pay her back, but help her out in some way. Though he wondered how she remained so skinny despite clearly earning enough money to buy herself a decent amount of food. It’s not like she spent it on much else, and nutrition should definitely be a priority. To some extent, the constant moving around, as well as her physical job, would contribute to her thin stature; but, still, she should not be _that_ thin.

“Do you buy yourself much food?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Ruby was silent for a second, slowly chewing as she scanned his face, before swallowing.

“Kinda. I try not to spend any more than ten dollars on myself a day though.”

Peter sighed, “On yourself?”

“Yeah, there’s, um, some girls that have it a lot worse than me. They’re not able to get a job, at least not one that doesn’t involve selling themselves; and a lot of the time that gets them sick. What little money they make either goes to medicine or fuelling their drug habits. So…they kinda depend on me for food.”

Peter gaped. This girl was practically a walking skeleton, had been toughing it out on the streets for god knows how long, has clearly been through some heavy shit, yet still gave away what little she had.

“Dude…” Peter didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah, I know, I know. I should eat more. I hear it every day. But I just- I know what it’s like to be on your own and without any help. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t use my advantages to help people that have it worse.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, “And they’ve all been there for me in the past, too, y’know? I owe them. You of all people must understand, right? I mean, come on, you’re freakin’ Spider-Man. You’re starving on the streets, and yet you still spend all your time helping others. You could easily use your powers to help fund rent or groceries, but you don’t. The world’s put you through shit, and here you are giving it all you can.”

Peter breathed heavily through his parted lips, truly astonished by his new friend and all the struggle she was forced to deal with. He could tell she held the same weight of responsibility as him, whether it was justified or not.

“I guess I’d be a hypocrite if I told you off then.”

“You sure would.” Ruby nodded with a lilt to her voice, before taking another bite from her sandwich.

“Regardless, I’m making sure you gain weight. From now on, regular meals and protein bars.”

“If it makes you shut up, then aye, aye, captain.” She mock saluted with the hand not holding her sandwich.

Peter scoffed, “Jerk.”

“Punk.”

He shook his head fondly as he reached for an apple and the jar of peanut butter. Producing a camp-style cutlery set from his pack, he cut up some slices and smothered the peanut butter over them.

“Here,” He announced, thrusting the slices to Ruby, “Good for weight gain.”

“Thanks,” She mumbled, trying to hide her smile, “But you probably need to be gaining weight too, y’know? Running around doing all your spidering, not to mention your metabolism.”

“Have some too,” She demanded, “If not for yourself, then for the sake of New York. We can’t have our fierce protector off his game just cause he won’t feed himself.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but gave in, nonetheless.

The two settled into bed shortly after, storing their food and belongings away inside the elevator. They continued chatting though, even as the night ticked towards early morning. Peter was exhausted, but simply enjoyed Ruby’s company so much that he couldn’t help staying up just that bit longer to get to know her better. In the short time that they had known each other, she had managed to alleviate most of his loneliness, and distract him from some of his grief.

They talked about nothing important, neither wanting to delve into anything too heavy. Eventually they’d exchange backstories, Peter figured, but for the moment, he enjoyed the light-heartedness he forgot he had been missing.

Peter curled up under his blanket as the temperature dropped throughout the night. Ruby also snuggled further into her sleeping bag. They decided it was probably time to sleep.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Came the timid question, yet again.

“Always,” Peter replied sincerely, “Good night, Ruby.”

“Good night, Peter.”

The wind howled as they drifted off.


	4. Everything Is No Longer Alright

Peter was so screwed. His chest heaved as he weaved his way through the onslaught of commuters, desperately trying to lose not only the cops on his tail, but the horde of reporters chasing the commotion. To make matters even worse, he had just used the very last of his webbing to restrain a car thief, and instead of being grateful and taking the thug in, the cops decided apprehending Spider-Man was more important.

He had no idea where the sudden aggression came from, nor the intense media attention. He was aware that the Daily Bugle was offering large sums for pictures of Spider-Man in action, which was great for his own income, especially considering his quest to make Ruby gain weight. But it also meant he was constantly avoiding photographers and reporters just so that he could get his job done; and they all seemed insistent on blowing his cover when he was tracking criminals. Most of them struggled to get a good shot since he moved too fast, though, so hopefully they’d soon lose interest and move on to other projects. But that hope didn’t help his current situation.

His feet skirted lightly over the pavement as he expertly ducked between alleys and side streets, but somehow still ended up facing either a reporter or a cop at every turn. He managed to flip over them, but the chase seemed never-ending.

Luckily for Peter, though, his time living on the streets meant he knew the city like the back of his hand. So to put an end to the incredibly stressful and lengthy foot-chase, he found himself darting behind an alley and scaling the tallest building he could find, which was only two storeys high. Once at the top, he collapsed onto the roof, extending his hearing to make sure he had actually escaped.

“God dammit, where’d he go?” A gruff voice demanded from below the building.

“The slippery bastard can climb buildings, he’s probably long gone, dude.” Another voice replied.

The gruff voice sighed heavily, “I’m starting to think we’re never gonna get a picture.”

The other voice scoffed, “Yeah, probably not. I have no idea how that anonymous source gets all those shots.”

“Witchcraft,” Another voice joined the conversation, panting heavily, “ _Shit_ , that guy is fast.”

The other two chuckled at him, and Peter stopped listening as their footsteps faded away. He latched onto another conversation passing under him.

“Wonder why the cops are after him.”

“I guess they’re cracking down on vigilantes cause of all that Accords bullshit,” A woman replied, “For Christ’s sake, they should just leave him alone. He’s only trying to help.”

“You gotta admit though, he leaves behind a mess.”

“Not as much of a mess as there’d be if he didn’t intervene.” The woman rebutted firmly.

“Guess so.”

Accords? What the hell were they talking about? Peter would have to get his hands on a newspaper or something. He sighed in resignation, deciding it probably wasn’t safe to continue patrolling just yet, especially without his web fluid. He’d have to whip some up when he went back to work the next day.

He stayed in position for a while longer, waiting for the police presence to fully dissipate. When it seemed clear, he began leaping between rooftops on his way back to his own. The abandoned building was thankfully in a relatively empty area, so there was no one around to notice him climbing it and hauling himself over the ledge.

Peter stopped when he stepped onto the concrete, at the sound of music. He treaded carefully towards the noise, listening avidly to his best friend’s ethereal voice.

“Oh, I want to be a baby again…” Ruby sang smoothly, fingers moving effortlessly over the strings and picking every accompanying note flawlessly.

“Oh, I want pure thoughts in my head…”

The chorus picked up speed, chords flowing directly into Peter’s chest as he clasped onto every drip of emotion the musician poured into the mantra.

“Oh, I want to be a baby again. Oh, I want to forget.” She repeated, carrying the tune like water through her hands.

The song tapered out soon after, strumming chords changing to gentle finger picking. Peter was captivated, rooted to the spot, not wanting to interrupt the stream of music.

“Everyone I love is gonna die, and I…will die as well. I think about this before I sleep, and how, since I was a child.”

She let the last chord ring out, and they both stayed in that delicate moment a little longer, the reverberating notes resonating in Peter’s ears.

After a few seconds, Peter emerged from around the corner, pretending that he hadn’t just been listening. He tore his mask from his head as he dropped himself to the concrete floor with a thud.

“Hey, dude,” Ruby greeted, “You’re back early.”

“Yeah, it was crazy out there,” He explained, letting himself vent a little, “I caught this car thief red handed, used the very last of my web fluid to practically tie him up in a bow for the cops, and then they tried to arrest me!”

“What the fuck?” Ruby grumbled, setting her guitar to the side and leaning forward, “Fucking coppers, I swear to god.”

“So now I’m running from the cops, without any web fluid, when a swarm of fucking reporters and photographers come after me, _again_.” He ranted, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

“Yeah, the Daily Bugle is kind of obsessed with you right now.” She winced with an apologetic smile.

“Apparently the cops are now, too. When I finally got away, I overheard some of the photographers saying that they’re cracking down on vigilantes for some reason. Something to do with ‘that accords bullshit’, or something.”

Peter used air quotes over the phrase, truly having no idea what it meant. Ruby didn’t seem to either, as she scrunched her eyebrows and tilted her head.

“Well,” She replied, ever the pragmatist, “You gotta lay low for a bit then. Refill on web fluid asap, but spend today investigating whatever the hell those photographers were talking about.”

Peter shut his eyes tightly, letting his head fall against the concrete behind him.

“Hey,” She called out, waiting for him to meet her gaze, “We’ll figure this out.”

Ruby’s eyes were filled with such intense sincerity that Peter didn’t know what to do with it. It had been years, he realised, since he had had help with…well, anything really. The sudden change of pace had his head spinning.

“Thank you.” He exhaled sharply, lifting his head to maintain eye contact.

She returned the gesture with an earnest smile. It was a good look on her.

“So,” She continued, slamming her notebook shut, “Get changed. We’re going into town.”

The vigilante nodded curtly, pulling out his civilian clothes and changing while Ruby gathered her things and slipped her scuffed boots on.

“What do you even keep in there?” Peter wondered aloud, as he opened the elevator doors for her to hide the rest of her stuff, before pointing to the smaller backpack she hung over her shoulders.

“Just essentials. Some food, a notebook and pen, warmer clothes, debit card, library card, CD player, headphones, whatever book I’m reading, and my burner phone. I make sure to keep this,” She retrieved the cylindrical weapon that he had watched her use when they first met, “in my pocket.”

With that, she slipped the device back into the top pocket of her cargo pants, hanging loosely from her hips. They were kept up by a ratty length of rope, secured as tightly as possible around her waist. He didn’t need to ask to know that she also hid several other weapons on her person.

“Speaking of which, we need to get you a burner phone, too.” She pointed firmly at his chest.

“Why would I need a phone?” Peter asked, confused.

“In case of emergencies, or if whoever you’re helping doesn’t have one to call triple zero- I mean 911. Or even just if you’re gonna be back later than usual, so that I don’t worry.”

“I dunno if it’s worth the money…”

“Please,” Ruby interjected, “Just for my peace of mind. I’m buying it for you either way, but please keep it with you.”

“Ruby, you don’t have to-”

“Okay, let’s go.” She interrupted his protest, heading for the fire escape.

Peter huffed in defeat before grabbing his own bag and following after her.

He led the way towards the more crowded parts of the city, where they were more likely to find news coverage. In his civilian clothes, Peter went by mostly unnoticed. The pair got occasional sneers from snobbish assholes as they came across more and more people, but also a few pitying glances. He couldn’t decide which he hated more.

“We just gotta find a newsagent, or a place showing the news.” Ruby advised when they reached a crowded street.

They traipsed through the rush of people warily, keeping an eye out for information. Peter was steadily growing more anxious as people bustled around him, and all the noises, scents, and bright lights of the city hit him at full force. Piled on top of his worry over the whole situation, the sensory overload was simply too much.

Ruby seemed to notice his distress, and reached for his forearm, tugging him into a nearby newsagency. The lights were dimmer, and there were only a few civilians roaming the aisles, making the dingy store a much-appreciated solace. The room was mostly quiet, aside from the occasional shuffling of feet on carpet, or rustle of products being handled, as Ruby led Peter towards the newspaper rack.

“Hey, Pete, just look at me,” She spoke slow and soft, “Take a breath. We’re gonna figure this out.”

He did as he was told, glancing at his friend’s earnest eyes briefly, before nodding sharply and turning to the rack. His fingers brushed over the newspaper stacked at the top, hesitating before pulling it into his hands. Ruby peered over his shoulder, her breath down his neck.

**_AVENGERS ON TRIAL_ **

**_Following the recent events that took place in Lagos, where newly officiated Avenger, Wanda Maximoff, otherwise known as the Scarlet Witch, mistakenly caused an explosive device to severely damage a nearby building and injure and kill innocent bystanders, the Avengers have been issued an amendment titled the ‘Sokovia Accords’. The document aims to hold so called heroes accountable for the collateral damage that their battles cause, due to disregard for national borders and higher authorities. The Accords are also attempting to instate new policies in response to the rise of vigilantes in our country. These policies would control the actions of vigilantes, and ban any enhanced or mutated being from concealing their identity from the U.S. Government._ **

Peter scanned the front page, heart hammering in his chest as the extensive reports plastered across the paper slapped him in the face. His hands trembled as he tore the paper open, flicking to the continuation of the article. The line between opinion and fact blurred further and further as his eyes poured over the text, struggling to keep up with the overload of information.

“Peter- Peter, hey.” Ruby lay her hand to his shoulder, causing him to snap his head to her imploring gaze.

She ran her thumb in comforting circles over his jacket, just like how May used to, and gently tugged the newspaper from his still shaking hands. He watched as the girl reached for the past three days editions too, piling them to her chest and striding to the front counter. She added two chocolate bars and a packet of Skittles to the haul, before retrieving her debit card.

The pair promptly exited the newsagency, Peter in a daze, Ruby dragging him along with the shopping bag swaying beside her. Before he knew it, Peter was being led into the nearby public library. He was grateful he didn’t have to walk all the way back to their rooftop in his shaky state.

Once they reached a table far at the back, well away from prying eyes, Ruby dumped the bag onto the desk and pulled out a chair for her friend, shoving him into it. She sat adjacent to him, digging out the newspapers and a pen from her bag.

Peter was staring at his fidgeting hands, focus on keeping his breathing steady as the floor swayed beneath his feet. His attention was diverted, however, when Ruby thrust a chocolate bar into his sweaty palms.

“Some sugar for your nerves.” She explained, eyeing him down in a silent demand.

Peter lips twitched slightly, and he fumbled to open the packaging while Ruby began highlighting segments of the newspapers and jotting down key points into her notebook. His gaze followed her nimble fingers as they underlined any mention of Spider-Man, and circled key dates to put together a timeline. Before long, she had scanned through most of the articles, and had completed a comprehensive summary. Peter was content to sit back and let her work, finding a newfound trust and admiration for the girl across from him.

“Okay, so,” She spoke suddenly, right hand twirling the pen, left hand gesturing wildly, “It seems that so far, this whole accords thing is still up in the air, and the Avengers have differing opinions over the matter. The public does too, some people thinking the Avengers aren’t to blame and have done all they could to minimise casualties, while others think they need to be put in place and regulated. The Accords were put together by the U.N. and so far one hundred and seventeen countries have signed. If they were put through, the Avengers would have to wait for a board to decide whether they’re needed or not. Basically, they would get no say in where they can go, or whether they even want to go. Other people are pointing out that this delay would compromise time-sensitive missions, and could alert bad guys to their plans. Captain America, especially, is worried about people with agendas changing their minds, and handing over control to higher authorities that don’t see enhanced individuals as human beings.”

She stopped to take a breath in the middle of her spiel, leg bouncing wildly as she pointed to her notes with jabs from her pen.

“Wow,” Peter took advantage of her brief pause, “You’re really good at this.”

“Why thank you. I’ll have you know I was a model student- well, aside from the skipping class, and ditching detention, and always being late, and pissing off teachers, and coming to school high...Moving on!”

A sharp shush sounded from behind them, and they turned to find a librarian glaring in their direction from her trolley of books, with a wrinkled finger pressed to her lips.

Peter winced, and mouthed, “Sorry.”

Ruby turned back to the desk with a nonchalant shrug. She then went on to explain further, this time whispering over a hunched shoulder as she eyed the librarian limping by. She took Peter through the timeline of past Avengers missions and the consequent conflict, including the impact of other vigilantes, as well as all the council meetings and political deliberation leading up to, and regarding the Accords, before they were announced.

“So that’s why Tony Stark seems to be taking the stance that he is; guilt. Or at least that’s what I think.” She finished with a flourish, dropping her pen to the paper.

Peter leant over the table, running his head through his hands.

“God, this is a mess.” He whispered to no one.

He had no idea what to do. If the Accords were ratified, he would be forced to give over his name, and wouldn’t be able to take any action without permission. Spider-Man was all he had- and he couldn’t be Spider-Man without a secret identity. He couldn’t have CPS ship him off to another hellhole, but he couldn’t turn his back on the responsibilities he was left with; the responsibilities that the world seemed determined to hold him back from fulfilling.

But isn’t that the hardest part of responsibility? Peter had the ability to do incredible good, to prevent harm; so, no matter the difficulty, he also had a duty. It didn’t matter if in the grand scheme of things the world would be better off, because when he looked back on all the lives he had not only changed, but saved- there’s nothing he would have done differently. Those larger governments didn’t seem to care about those individual lives. But Peter did.

“Why does everyone have to be so black and white?” He wondered aloud, looking up to the girl sat across from him, “I mean, surely there’s a third option. There has to be some kind of middle ground.”

“Well, that’s usually the problem with the general public,” She replied, sliding down her chair, “Compromise is too much work with so many people and so many differing opinions. Most people don’t wanna accept that their ideas can be improved, or that they can actually work with people they look down on and disagree with, because then they would be obligated to do so. It’s just easier to pick a side. Simple enough for the masses.”

Peter chuckled half-heartedly as his hand twitched over the tabletop, “Yeah, you’re right. And the people with all the power are the ones that have had everything come easy to them, so of course they don’t wanna put in the work.”

“They just want control.” Ruby stated, nodding to herself slowly.

Peter twitched.


	5. Everything Really Sucks, But At Least I Have You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos, please comment if you're liking it at all, or have feedback. You know, thoughts, comments, death threats, all that jazz.
> 
> Avengers are coming after two more chapters.

The next few days, Peter spent his time focusing on his work and trying to keep up with the news. He whipped up his web fluid under the table during his breaks for when he would start patrolling again, and all but begged Dr. Ritz for some extra shifts. It was getting cold; really cold, and he needed the money for more blankets, and warmer clothes, maybe a sleeping bag even. To make matters worse, Peter found that no matter how meticulously he budgeted, food was expensive. He was sleeping a little better thanks to Ruby being by his side, but his metabolism demanded more food than he could afford. A couple ham and cheese sandwiches and fruits a day weren’t enough for a growing teenage boy, especially one who had a healing factor and spidey sense to fuel.

His spidey sense was arguably more important now than ever. Reporters and cops were around every corner, just itching to get their hands on Queens’ vigilante. Spider-Man couldn’t handle anymore bad press, either, with his precarious position in the whole Accords debacle. Patrolling was too dangerous at the moment, and New York’s criminals were starting to take advantage of the poorly monitored streets. Both Peter and Ruby had had to rustle up a few goons preying on the homeless and defenceless. He would have to get back out there soon, Peter knew, but he was biding his time carefully. It was getting cold.

Luckily, Dr. Ritz had granted him a few more hours on payday. He sprung out onto the bustling streets just as the sun began to creep under the horizon, casting the city into a dusk glow. The afternoon sky was less cloudy than usual, and Peter took a moment to appreciate his surroundings. Ruby had taught him to be mindful of the simple things that brought him joy. It was the only way to stay afloat when plagued by the mind-numbing boredom that came with homelessness. Even more so, his body was in a constant state of aching, seemingly caused by his excessive physical activity outweighing his measly food portions. His joints were always sore from running, as was his back from sleeping on a less than comfortable makeshift bed. His head was always pounding, made worse by the frequent sensory overloads and bad dreams, not to mention the cough that just wouldn’t seem to go away.

So, noticing and appreciating small things, little glimpses of happiness, helped him keep going.

His feet scuffed along the pavement as he kept a tight fist around the couple hundred-dollar bills in his left pocket. His sticky fingers would prove difficult to beat for any petty pocket-pickers. With his right hand, Peter booted up the flip phone and selected his only contact.

Ruby picked up on the first ring.

“Peter! You were supposed to be back hours ago!” She poorly concealed her relief with anger. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Ritz kept me back a couple hours, but she gave me some extra shifts for next week, _and_ I just got paid.”

On the other end of the call, Ruby sighed, “Okay. Maybe shoot me a text next time.”

“Sorry. I didn’t wanna waste the credit you put on there.”

“Don’t worry about it,” She replied, voice wavering subtly, “You comin’ back now?”

“I was just gonna hit up the thrift store and get more food first. Wanna meet me there?”

There was a shuffle in the background as Ruby got moving, “Good idea. I’ll meet you at the one near Delmar’s, yeah?”

“Cool beans.”

Ruby snorted, “Dork.”

Peter was about to quip back, but the dial tone beat him to it. He shuffled along the concrete, gaze downturned as businessmen bustled past. He knocked shoulders with civilians who paid him no mind, but he preferred it to being stared at. It was easier to merely blend in with the constant city cacophony of winter coughs, beeping cars, and the cursing of disgruntled citizens.

The thrift store was swarming with grannies, Peter observed from the outside. He stood to the side of the display window, bouncing on his feet in a vain attempt to keep warm. His eyes darted toward the doorway as the bell above it twanged from some grannies on their way out. They shot what were probably supposed to be discreet glares in his direction, likely seeing him as a delinquent teen loitering. He gave them a sheepish smile as they passed, gaggled together and hurrying away from him.

It took a few more minutes for Ruby to eventually come speed-walking around the corner.

“Hey, ma-” She began, but halted with two short inhales, before sneezing violently over her shoulder.

Peter chuckled a little, but mostly watched her with concern.

“You alright there?” He leant down to scan her face, finding a red nose and drooping eyes.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” She muttered lazily, rubbing fingerless glove clad hands over her face.

The girl took a moment to compose herself, tugging the ratty coat tighter around her small frame, before sticking an arm out for Peter to link with.

“Get in loser,” She teased, “We’re going shopping.”

The two browsed the aisles leisurely, having nowhere else to be, while the cashier followed them with his eyes as he spoke to another customer, who also seemed concerned by their presence. They were used to this kind of reaction, but it still stung. Peter kept his head down, while Ruby ran nimble fingertips along the coat-hangers, nose high in the air. He admired her for it.

By the end of their cautious spree, they each had two shopping bags filled with new winter clothes and blankets, as well as two thermoses. Well, not technically new, but new to them. They had spent the whole time practically bullying each other into admitting that they needed a few replacements.

“Peter,” Ruby had insisted, “Your shoes are literally falling apart. I can see your socks when you tilt them.”

“You’re one to talk. That sorry excuse for a coat has almost as many holes in it as it does stains- and that’s saying something.” He had rebutted firmly

Despite meticulous budgeting, the total still tallied up to over seventy dollars. Peter mourned every cent as he handed over a hundred-dollar bill to the cashier, who was eyeing them like he thought they had mugged someone for it.

They then skimmed through a grocery store before making it back to their ramshackle ‘home’, where Ruby collected several low-priced groceries.

When they made it back to the abandoned business building, Ruby craned her neck to stare forlornly at the ten storeys she climbed every day. Peter nudged her shoulder and smirked, before taking all their shopping bags and wrapping them into a tight net of webs and hauling it over his shoulder. He then turned his back to Ruby and patted his shoulder in silent invitation.

She looked confused for a moment, before her eyes widened in realisation, and she stated, “You are not carrying me.”

Peter rolled his eyes and grinned at her from over his shoulder, “By all means, scale the twenty flights of stairs.”

He chuckled at the scowl she gave him.

“You’re a punk.” She accused jokingly, slinging her arms over his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist, nonetheless.

She held on tight as Peter scaled the side of the building with ease. It was actually pretty nice, seeing the city lights rise in the night sky as they reached higher and higher, overlooking the world that had been so cruel to them, but still gave them little slices of beauty.

She jumped off his back the second Peter tugged them over the ledge, still a bit uncomfortable with prolonged contact. Peter had found that initiating touch with her never went well, usually resulting in the girl flinching away violently, or trying to stab him again. But if he waited, Ruby would lean into him sometimes, or rub her thumb in circles on his shoulder comfortingly. It seemed as if touch was something she craved, but was still afraid of. At least that meant the few touches they exchanged were meaningful, and showed how close they were getting.

After Skip Westcott had happened, Peter too was hesitant with physical contact. It was mostly prevalent throughout the first few years following, but he had somewhat gotten over it since then. He still startled at sudden touch, though, and his heart would race at anything he deemed _too_ close; but his senses and fast reflexes really made a difference in helping him feel less caught off guard. He was stronger now. He had the strength he wished he had had when he was only ten years old. And now, he found himself wishing he had had it to help Ruby with whatever had happened to her.

Peter set their shopping down carefully, while Ruby huddled into the corner of their cavern, drawing her knees to her chest as she trembled.

“Why does this country have to be so goddamn cold?” She muttered to herself.

Peter slumped to sit across from her, shoulders sagged and eyebrows creased.

“Maybe we should move somewhere warmer? Like, closer to the ground, and inside. I mean, I could get us past any lock.”

“So could I,” She raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re yet to see my incredible lock picking skills.”

Peter scoffed, “I’m not surprised. Not even a little bit.”

They shared a short chuckle as the wind howled around their cavern. Peter scuffled along the concrete floor, closer to the bundle of new supplies. He reached through the hole he had left and pulled Ruby’s new coat from the reusable bag still stuck to the webbing. Along with the coat, he tossed a blanket and protein bar at her.

She grabbed the coat, but instead of replacing her old one with it like Peter expected, she wrapped it around what she was already wearing. Then she snuggled into the blanket and sagged against the wall behind her.

She tore through the packaging of the bar as she spoke again, “It’s too risky to sleep on the ground. We’ve seen the assholes down there. God, I wish the floorboards in this place were stable enough to even tiptoe on.”

“I’m sure we can find a place. I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Your optimism knows no bounds, Pete. I’m amazed that you’ve managed to keep it so long.”

Peter snickered and shrugged as he tore the elevator doors open. He set to work setting up his ‘bed’. It had improved since Ruby bought him a yoga mat the few days before. Adding his two new blankets to the bundle, and situating a makeshift pillow (garbage bag filled with clothes) at the top, he let his body relax marginally. Being tucked away in the now familiar cavern, with a familiar friend, had become the closest thing to a home that he had experienced since that night his life fell apart so many years ago. Foster homes didn’t count, as far as Peter was concerned, nor did halfway houses. For anything, or anyone, to be considered a home, they’d have to feel _safe_. Peter hadn’t felt safe in years. But in this cocoon, this bubble; the two of them find a home in each other.

This is why Peter worried so much over his friend. She was all he had, especially with Spider-Man being benched for the past few days. She didn’t lie, she didn’t have hidden intentions, she didn’t want anything from him- she was just…Ruby. Ruby, who had clearly been through hell, and seemed comfortable in her suffering. He could tell she was getting sicker as it got colder, but of course she refused to let him worry about it.

There was still a lot about her that he didn’t know, though. They’d been together for a week then, and didn’t have much to do aside from talk, so he knew some basics. True to his suspicions, she kept her past closed up, didn’t talk about her feelings, or reveal too much about herself. Peter mulled this over as he watched her set up her own sleeping bag.

“How long have you been homeless?”

He hadn’t meant to blurt it out. His curiosity seemed to be getting the better of him, but he knew he was treading on thin ice.

Ruby’s movements came to a sudden halt, and stayed that way for a moment. She seemed surprised when she turned to face Peter, but quickly masked it with nonchalance and a shrug, as she tugged her beanie further down her forehead and slumped against her bedding.

“On and off since I was a kid,” She answered vaguely, “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just,” Peter drew his knees to his chest under his three layers of blankets, “wanna know more about you.”

Ruby stayed motionless at that, eyes scanning him rapidly and eyebrows scrunched in a weird sort of wobble. Her lips turned to a sad smile before they parted to take a deep breath.

“Well that’s the first time in about a millennia.” She stretched her lips into a hesitant grin, body growing tense with the sudden attention.

Her disbelieving eyes almost broke his heart. But, they were gone in a flash when she sniffled, wiping her nose and chuckling.

“Warning you though, you gotta reach at least friendship level nine to unlock my tragic backstory.”

Peter sighed with closed eyes, but couldn’t help a soft snicker from escaping his throat.

“What about you, though?” She motioned towards him with a now trembling hand, “Was it before you were Spider-Man? How’d you even become Spider-Man. I mean, I know it was a radioactive spider bite or whatever, but what made you turn that into a hero gig?”

“I feel like your deflection skills are even more impressive than my optimism.”

Ruby snorted, “Nah, yeah. C’mon, I’ve been dying to know.”

“What, so you get to unlock my tragic backstory but I don’t get yours?”

She gave him a deadpan glare, “Doesn’t have to be in detail. We’re bonding, Petey. Maybe one day you’ll hear mine.”

Peter knew she was concealing her sincerity in a thin layer of humour, but it was as open as he had gotten so far.

He took a deep breath, settling beneath his blankets and explaining, “The bite was before I was homeless, and I was living with my aunt and uncle.”

“What about your parents?”

“Plane crash.”

“Oh. Fun.”

“Mhm. Anyway, so yeah, I got bitten, got really sick, then discovered I had powers. I didn’t do anything with them straight away, just kinda dicked around at school with this kid that used to bully me a little. But then…I let someone get away who I could have stopped. And then that someone ended up crossing paths with my aunt and uncle who were out looking for me, and- they were gone, just like that. It just made me realise that, I have the ability to stop those kind of people. So, I have to. There wasn’t really much of a choice.”

“And then I bounced around a few foster homes and halfway houses, but, putting it lightly, the people there kinda sucked. Not to mention, it was a struggle to hide Spider-Man from those kind of places. So I left, about three months ago.”

Peter had been fidgeting with his hands, struggling to maintain eye contact. He looked up finally when he had finished his spiel. Ruby was giving him a small encouraging smile, and had her head tilted to the side.

“Wow,” She commented, “That’s actually really honourable of you. Most people I know woulda used that kind of sudden, extreme power for much worse things. And I’m guessing becoming Spider-Man was a part of your grieving process, right? A way to cope, and feel like you’re giving back. Actually, sounds more like feeding into a guilt complex that seems to still be haunting you.”

Peter huffed an incredulous breath, “You a therapist or something?”

“Well,” She moved to sit cross legged, “I used to wanna be a psychologist.”

“What do you mean used to? You’d be great at it.”

“Doesn’t really seem to be on the table for me at the moment.” She averted her eyes, picking at the threads of her blanket.

“It can be. Someday. Promise.”

Ruby smiled fondly, “There’s that optimism again.”

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

Peter rolled his eyes. He tossed an apple at Ruby’s smirking face.

“Eat some more. Then I need sleep.”

She nudged the bag closer to him with her foot, accompanied by a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He droned, but obeyed her silent demand and dug into some dinner himself.

When they finished eating, Peter put their things back into the elevator before they both settled into bed. He waited for Ruby to ask her usual question. This time she rolled over to face him.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Always. Good night, Ruby.”

She sighed in content, closing her eyes gently, “Nighty night, Petey.”

After some struggle, Peter managed to fall into a fitful sleep. It wasn’t long until he was shooting upwards in a cold sweat, choking on his last unconscious scream.

 

 


	6. In These Moments, We Can Be Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, my dudes. I function through random bursts of energy and motivation, and every time I got one, it was with inspiration for a completely different chapter of this work. 
> 
> I really appreciate all your comments, though!! They're writing fuel for which I am in desperate need of lmao.

May had her throat in the fangs of a wolf, blood dripping down her pale skin- but he couldn’t reach her. Ben was wailing, clammy hands trying futilely to stop the downpour of crimson from his chest. There was blood on Peter’s hands too. He was running, he was sprinting so hard his lungs nearly gave out, but he just wouldn’t _move_ ; he couldn’t move, because now Skip had his claws around his throat, forcing his jaw open as his rotted teeth rolled right out of his head, as if they never belonged there in the first place. His captor dragged him under the ground in a mass of pitch black, and Peter grappled with the dirt, collecting grime under his nails as he reached wildly for any tether he could clutch onto. But there weren’t any.

He woke up screaming.

“Peter! Peter, hey!” Ruby was at his side in an instant.

He breathed shallow and heavy, gasps clawing their way out of his hoarse throat. A trembling hand came to fist at his jumper in a desperate attempt to ease the gnawing grip around his pounding heart, as he recognised his surroundings. It had felt so real.

“Peter, look at me! It was just a nightmare, alright? Just a dream. You’re here, with me. You’re safe.”

He looked to her through the dark, the moon high in the still night sky the only source of light. It cast shadows over her concerned face so that he could only see her scarred eye, and highlighted the goosebumps crawling over her jaw line.

“Good, good, there ya go. Just breathe.” She soothed, gaze never leaving his.

Peter heaved in lung-fulls of the crisp air, watching his own chest rise and fall as his heartbeat slowly came back down to Earth, before his breathing evened out into quiet panting. With a deep breath, Peter finally sagged against the concrete wall behind him. His blankets were tangled between his legs, he noted, and his makeshift bed was in disarray.

He glanced to his friend quickly, before snapping his gaze back to his hands as he whispered, “I’m okay. Sorry about that.”

Ruby took a deep breath herself. She fell from her crouch to sit beside Peter against their back wall, looking out to the moon overcasting the city lights below.

“Don’t apologise.” She stated firmly.

Peter opened his lips to retort.

“And if you apologise for apologising, I will shatter you like glass.” She warned without even turning to face the boy next to her.

The threat elicited a laugh from Peter, who was in the middle of shaking the residual nightmare out of his head. It helped to have someone there for a change. For the past few years, he had learnt to silence his nightmares, as to not bother any sleeping beasts he lived with. Then when he first started out on the streets, he was all alone, and he woke up to beeping taxis and clubbers stumbling home.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Ruby spoke up, “I mean, I’m pretty sure you don’t, but I feel obligated to ask, y’know?”

Peter shook his head in a flurry. Talking about it meant thinking about it, and thinking about it meant feeling it- which he liked to avoid at all costs.

“Okay, no worries, that’s fine. But dude, I know you get a lot of bad dreams, and don’t worry, so do I, but- never _that_ bad.”

He turned to look to her, “How would you know that?”

“Every time you fall asleep before me, when I can’t sleep- You mumble stuff, and toss and turn a lot, and it does not look like a fun time.” Ruby shrugged.

“Are you saying you watch me in my sleep?”

Peter nudged her shoulder with a smirk; a meek attempt at humour amidst his fading terror.

“Oi, deflecting’s my thing,” She pointed a finger at him, “I’m just a little concerned, is all. But don’t let it go to your head.”

Peter tried to laugh, but it was overtaken by a heaving sigh.

“I’m fine, really. They flare up sometimes. I think I just need to start patrolling again.”

Ruby huffed a silent resignation, accepting the answer for the moment as she watched Peter fidget with the ends of his fingers.

“Some superhero I am,” He muttered, “Can’t even handle a little bad dream.”

Ruby hit him over the back of the head.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“For being a dick to my friend,” She justified, narrowing her good eye as she lectured, “Everyone, and I mean _everyone_ , has weaknesses, Peter. You’ve seen some terrible shit, and that kind of stuff sticks with you. Having nightmares doesn’t make you weak, and being afraid doesn’t make you vulnerable. What defines courage, is how you pick yourself back up anyway.”

Her statement lingered in the silence between them. Peter paused his dramatic rubbing at the sore spot behind his head, in favour of staring at the girl, dumbfounded. Logically, he knew she was right. But convincing his feelings to get on board was a little more difficult.

“You’re right,” He whispered, nodding slowly.

“As per usual,” She snickered, “So, what do you wanna do now? Cause if you’re planning on starting patrol again in the morning, I’m gonna have to demand you get some more sleep. The bags under your eyes have bags, man.”

He shook his head fondly, dismissing her concerns with a wave of his hand, “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

He rose from his slouch against the wall and gave his head a final shake, before untangling the mess of blankets between his legs and setting his bed up again.

“I dunno if I’ll be able to get back to sleep, though.”

“Well, what’s helped you in the past?”

Peter hummed in thought as he rolled over to face her, “My aunt used to sing to me when I had nightmares about my parents after they passed.”

He tried to ignore the stabbing grief in his chest. And the clouding in his throat. And the nausea swirling in his stomach. He coughed into his hand.

“I mean…I could try that. If you want.” Ruby rubbed the back of her neck, gaze trailing away.

“You’d do that for me?” Peter’s small voice came out hoarse.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Nightmares suck, man.”

Peter stared at her for a long moment, noted her discomfort. It seemed like a big deal to her, something intimate and vulnerable.

“Do you want your guitar?”

“Oh, yes please.”

Peter reached one hand out of the warmth of his blankets to pry the elevator door open, while Ruby reached inside and tugged the worn case out. He watched as she unzipped it, and the scratched, cheap guitar fell to her lap. She tested out the thick nylon strings, poking her tongue out as she fiddled with the tuning pegs and leant her ear closer to the sound hole. When she had finished tuning, she gave it a dramatic strum.

“Alright then. Go to your happy place…close your eyes and relax…let the soothing tones of your favourite artist rock you to sleep.” She joked with a raspy, deep voice, earning a chuckle from Peter.

He settled further into his little bed and rested his eyes, muttering, “Just do it.”

“So bossy,” Ruby teased, before bringing her hands to the fretboard, “Okay, so, uh…my mum used to sing this to me actually, when things got really bad. Hopefully it helps.”

With the pre-ambling aside, Ruby began plucking the strings in a fluid motion with her right hand, while her left changed between chords smoothly, adding hammerons, vibratos, and variations every now and then. Peter let it flow through his ears, as his fatigue caught up to him.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” Ruby sang, sweet voice getting louder as she gained confidence, “You make me happy when skies are grey.”

She played around with the melody to her liking, singing, “You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. So please don’t take my sunshine away.”

As she moved onto the second verse that Peter didn’t know existed, he let his body relax further, feeling safe in the comfort of the music. After his friend repeated the song, he had finally fallen into a precarious sleep.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter blinked his eyes open, struggling against his drooping eyelids. They focused just enough that he could see the empty space before him, where Ruby’s sleeping bag lay, without her in it. He scrambled upwards, dragging his spindly legs out from under the blankets, and bracing a hand against the concrete wall as he rose to his aching feet.

He scanned the cavern and found himself alone. Ruby wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Ruby!” He called out, heart caught in his throat.

Peter stood trembling for a few moments, chest heaving up and down, before he heard a voice.

“Over here!” Ruby chirped back.

He dashed towards the sound of her voice, heart settling down once he found his friend sat atop her yoga mat, arms stretching towards her toes. They were situated right outside the cavern. Peter scoffed at himself in exasperation as he took a deep breath.

“You alright there, Petey?”

Ruby sounded out of breath as she gripped the tips of her shoes easily. She stared up at him without breaking the stretch.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” Peter replied, relaxing into his stance, “What are you doing?”

She brought one leg to meet her inner thigh, then arched an arm over her head to lean towards the outstretched leg.

“Invading France.”

Peter crossed his arms and chuckled deep in his chest. He waited for her to finish, impressed by her natural flexibility; it was one thing to hear about it, and another to see it in person. Though, he supposed it was necessary for her night-time profession.

Ruby yawned dramatically as she rose to her feet. Standing at her full height, she made Peter feel tall for probably the first time in his life. She grabbed the yoga mat with one hand and dragged it behind her.

“Hard to practise without the actual thing.” She explained, striding back into their cavern.

Peter traipsed behind her, fiddling with the web-shooters permanently affixed to his wrists. An idea struck him as he studied the concrete roof above them.

“I bet you’d be amazing at it,” Ruby mused, too engrossed in rolling up her mat and sorting through her bedding to pay attention to Peter behind her, “Y’know, with your freaky spider agility and whatnot. And needless to say, you’re not exactly scared of heights. I, on the other hand, took for fucking ever to feel comfortable so high up. I mean, there’s a difference between being fearless and brave, y’know? Same with bravery and stupidity. Unfortunately, I fall into the latter.”

Ruby laughed to herself. When she turned to face Peter, it was through a fully functioning web hammock.

“What the fuck…”

“You like it?” Peter grinned from behind his creation.

The acrobat ran her hands down the intricate webbing, mouth slightly agape. She gave it an experimental tug, testing its strength. The webs bounced along with her hand, but remained firmly stuck to the ceiling.

“Dude,” She muttered as her eyes trailed up its length to its stems, “That’s bloody incredible.”

“Eh, it’s not much.” He shrugged.

Ruby paused her examination to look to her friend.

“Thank you.”

“No worries, man.”

They shared eye contact for a few moments before Ruby gave him a curt nod and bounced on the balls of her feet. She launched herself into the seat of the hammock in a flurry, swinging back and forth leisurely.

Peter smirked to himself as he turned to retrieve their bags from the elevator. He pulled out some fruits and bread for breakfast, taking a seat in his corner.

“Oi,” Ruby got his attention, “Who am I?”

Peter watched in amusement as she lifted her feet off the ground to hook them around the edges and swing upside down, poising her legs in the iconic spidey stance.

“Lemme guess,” Peter stroked his chin thoughtfully, “Captain America.”

Ruby’s smirk turned to a straight line as she glared at the boy and shook her head like a petulant child. Her hair swayed beneath her, a few centimetres above the ground.

“You do have his figure, y’know?” Peter responded to her glare.

Ruby scoffed, before flipping back up in one fluid motion.

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Petey.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

The pair spent the morning like this, exchanging snide remarks and easy conversation over breakfast. Ruby remained in her hammock, refusing to come down, instead insisting on swinging back and forth and cocooning as she ate. Eventually she got around to practising her routine for the coming night. Needless to say, Peter was thoroughly impressed, but everyone compliment he tried was dismissed with humour- not that he could talk, considering he did the exact same thing any time Ruby praised his efforts as Spider-Man.

He was gonna start patrolling again today, consequences be damned. He enjoyed his work in the lab, but he couldn’t ignore the itch to get back to web-slinging. Chemical equations and lab maintenance could only provide him with so much thrill.

The excitement of super-hero stuff was still prevalent in his patrols, despite other aspects of his life threatening to bring him down. But then there was also the nagging sense of responsibility and guilt that just wouldn’t let him rest. 

The whole Accords debacle wasn’t bothering him as much after he had some time to plan around it. The situation was complete mess, and brought up a lot of political and ethical debate that had him thinking. But, ultimately, he couldn’t fix the Avengers’ problems for them. All he could control was how he moved forward; what kind of hero Spider-Man would become.

Ruby had been keeping an eye on the news and updating Peter briefly, knowing the topic tended to stress him out. Nothing much had changed, really. With how fast-paced public attention changed, people had already begun to move onto the next thing. Officials were still debating, and it was still a controversial topic, but crazier things had happened to plain old New York, let alone the whole world.

So, after he and Ruby had eaten, they set out to the public bathrooms. He gave himself a sink shower, grimacing at his haggard reflection in the graffitied mirror, and brushed his teeth with the two-dollar set he got from Delmar’s. He looked back to his reflection briefly, noting that he was in desperate need of a haircut. The greasy locks curled down the nape of his neck and under his ears, making him look like a hobbit. Maybe he’d ask Ruby for some help later.

Later, he bid goodbye to the girl before ducking into an alley to change into his suit. It was looking a little rough, slashed and cut in places, edges fraying. Peter looked it over, grimacing at the blood stains and damages, but shrugged to himself before tugging it on. He was quite the anomaly, he mused as he webbed his backpack under a dumpster. A homeless vigilante. There weren’t exactly support groups for his cause.

He spent the whole day patrolling, luckily with no police run ins. He managed to escape confronting the cops, making sure to leave the scene immediately after the thugs were webbed up and he had found someone else to call it in. Spider-Man stopped several muggings, most after dark, scared creepy dudes away from girls just trying to go about their day, avoided the press, and graciously accepted a hot dog from a grateful vendor.

“You saved my kid the other night,” The bearded man had explained, “He hasn’t shut up about it since. Thank you, Spider-Man. Glad you’re back.”

He was shaking his head fondly as he talked about his son, though Peter couldn’t tell which kid he was referring to, since he had helped out quite a few in the past.

“You noticed I was gone?” He couldn’t help but ask after thanking him profusely for the food.

“Of course, everyone has. Don’t blame ya, though. Those politician sharks can go fuck emselves.”

Peter grinned under his mask, nodding in agreement, before thanking him again and webbing away.

As the night was coming to an end, he caught a look at a clock in a store window. 3 am. Ruby would be finishing up work soon. He swung by where he had left his backpack, which had thankfully not been stolen this time, before making his way to the club where his friend worked.

Drunk couples were stumbling out through the front doors, the bouncer stepping aside in exasperation, muscly arms folded tightly against his chest. Peter watched from the roof, perched over the edge and waiting for Ruby to come out the back.

“Hey, Spider-Man.” She grinned from the pavement.

Peter lifted one hand from his perch to salute the girl below him, “Hello there, civilian.”

She chuckled, adjusting the strap of the bag over shoulder and beginning the walk home. Peter somersaulted to her side, earning a playful shove.

“Good shift?” He asked while they walked side-by-side through the dark, “Any perverts I need to beat up?”

Ruby smiled fondly in his direction, “No, Spidey, it was all good. My routine went well, though. Some punters stopped dancing to actually pay attention and cheer.”

“Of course they did. You’re amazing.”

Ruby scoffed, looking to her feet, “Shut up.”

Peter laughed deep in his chest. The wind billowed around them, Ruby tugging her coat closer, and coughing, but she still sent him an earnest look and a bemused smirk.

“How was patrol?”

Peter grinned back, “Good. Really good.”

They strolled home in silence, shivering in the cold, but gazing up at the stars nonetheless.


	7. What The H-E-Double Fuck

Tony followed the spy back to their car, constantly impressed by her exponent skills. He observed as Nat set up the corresponding device to the console between them, then allowed the system to begin configuring the kid’s location and audio signal.

It was mostly static at first, before the tech caught onto a wavelength. From there, it was whistling wind, and a consistent stream of muttered cursing.

“Kid’s got a mouth on him, that’s for sure.”

Nat shushed him as she watched the red dot blink furiously over the cross-grid map of Queens displayed between them. They stayed there, waiting for the dot to stop its current trajectory. Spider-Man either had absolutely no idea where he was going, or knew exactly where he wanted to be.

The howling wind quietened, followed by a harsh thud. Shuffles of movement could be heard clearly, but the tracking device that had focused to a single square grid, stood solitary. The altitude, however, was steadily increasing. Heaving breaths took the place of the cursing. Then, finally, shoes skidded over concrete, and the dot travelled a few more feet before coming to a stop.

“Fuck! Ruby?” Spider-Man’s voice returned.

“Peter?” A girl called back, voice getting louder, “Hey, you’re back early. What’s going on?”

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m so screwed, oh my god.” The vigilante- _Peter_ \- exclaimed.

“Dude! Slow down. Tell me what happened.”

“The freaking _Avengers_ are after me. Holy shit, I must have royally messed up this time.”

“Wait, what? What did they do?”

“They cornered me. I didn’t know they even knew I existed. The actual real-life Tony Stark and Black Widow!”

“Okay, Peter, calm down. Look at me. Take a breath,” The girl directed as a deep inhale was heard, “Good. Now explain.”

Tony heard Peter fumble over his words for a moment, before launching into his recount, “I had just webbed up some guys trying to rob the bodega over on fifth, when they came up behind me. Mr Stark said they just wanted to talk, and I was like, ‘I know you’re the literal Avengers and all, but I’m gonna have to say no’, and he was like, ‘well we’re gonna have to insist’, and I was like, ‘Y’know I can’t believe I’m saying this to my childhood hero, but fuck off,’ and then Black Widow was like, ‘are you going to make us call backup?’, and I just panicked and said yes and webbed away.”

“Jesus Christ.”

A beat of silence.

“I told Tony Stark to fuck off.” He echoed absently, seemingly in secondary horror.

Tony chuckled at that, leaning closer to the device. He cast a quick glance to Nat, who was also bemused, if the smirk tugging at her lips was anything to go by. Beneath the smirk, however, Tony also recognised a hint of concern reflecting his own. The spy scrunched her eyebrows together, and Tony could practically see the cogs turning in her brain, cooking up theories.

“Okay. Get out of the costume, quick.” The girl’s voice returned.

“Oh right, yeah.”

Tony turned to his teammate, about to worry.

She raised a hand before he could ask, eyes still focused on the device showing Peter’s location, elevated heart rate, and low body temperature.

“Bug is on his wrist, not the costume.” She explained.

Tony sank back into his seat, nodding curtly. He scanned over the information before them, with a sense of dread pulsing at the back of his skull. The panic they had seemed to cause within Spider-Man had him overthinking. Not only that, but the location the two were conversing at didn’t look like any kind of home.

After some rustling and zipping, there was a heavy thud and sigh, followed by a more cautious scrape down a wall, presumably the girl coming to sit next to him.

“Were you followed?”

“I don’t think so.” Spider-Man spoke again, voice sagging in exhaustion. Tony found himself startled by just how young he sounded, how drained and hopeless.

“Maybe they really did just wanna talk.”

“No way,” He was quick to dispute, “They probably wanna unmask me, or experiment with my abilities, or make sure I don’t go evil or whatever. God, they must think I’m so incompetent.”

The girl’s voice lilted hopefully, “Or maybe they think you’re amazing and wanna recruit you.”

Peter ignored her, “And oh my god! All that accords stuff! They _hate_ vigilantes and secret identities. How in the holy hell am I gonna hide from the Avengers?!”

“One thing at a time alright? Just breathe right now.”

Spider-Man took another deep breath, though his breathing picked right back up as he sighed, “I’m so screwed.”

The pair sat in silence for a minute. Tony and Nat waited on bated breaths, the silence leaving space for guilt and doubt to creep in.

A small pat could be heard, followed by subtle rustling. A comforting touch, perhaps.

The girl coughed before speaking up, “I think we’re gonna have to lay low for a while, okay? Just be Peter Parker in the meantime. I’m sure New York can survive without Spider-Man for just a little bit.”

More silence. Tony noticed Nat in the corner of his eye, scribbling on a notepad. _Peter Parker_.

“But I’m nothing without Spider-Man.” Peter muttered so lowly Tony could hardly distinguish it through the speaker.

“You better not have said what I think you just said.” The words were harsh, but the tone remained unwaveringly gentle.

“You know it’s true.”

“Hey, no, that’s bullshit. Spider-Man is nothing without you. No one could do it better than you. No one has a heart as golden, or a mind as inventive.”

Tony liked this girl.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Have I ever been wrong?”

“That’s not what I mean-”

Peter’s sentence was cut off. A pause.

“Trust me. There’s no Spider-Man without you. And that’s why we have to do everything we can to make sure you can continue with all your heroing business, which means laying low.”

Peter made a displeased sound, “I-I can’t just sit back and let bad things happen to people.”

Tony’s opinion on Spider-Man was rising every minute; and it was pretty high in the first place. Any suspicion of ulterior motives were wiped from his mind.

“You don’t have to. Help out where you see it, but don’t go searching for crime. Let the police do their jobs for a change. You could keep your mask with you and if you have to do some hero stuff, leave as soon as you’re done. The more distance between you and the crime scene, the better. And we can move around, just until the heat wears off. Besides, I’m sure the Avengers have more important things they should be doing.”

“Okay. Okay fine, you’re right.”

“As always.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“C’mon, I did the shopping.”

Tony and Nat listened a little longer as the conversation changed course.

“How much did you spend?” Peter asked over the crinkling of plastic.

“Uh, like seven bucks.”

“So we’re eating gourmet tonight, huh?”

That was…strange. Tony covered his concern with disbelief, willing his presumptions to be wrong.

“Oh yeah, I got _three_ baguettes, and cheese and tomato and ham and some of those free fruits for kids, cause if we’re too young to vote, we should be eligible for a couple apples.”

“Can’t argue with that logic. So, what else did you do today?”

“Same old, same old. Hit up the library, worked my way through some more chapters in that psychology textbook, swapped out some CDs,” She rambled, packages being opened and zips opening, “Oh, and there’s a seminar on spoken word poetry tomorrow, so that’s exciting. Then I busked for a couple hours, met some cute kids.”

Peter chuckled fondly, calming down from the previous panic, “They’re always so excited to learn little bits of how the world works, like tipping buskers. It’s adorable.”

“I know right. Also I stopped by the laundromat.”

“Aw sweet, clean clothes!”

“And I topped up our burners. God, I was terrified something awful was gonna happen on the one day we didn’t have contact.”

“Yeah that sounds like our luck.”

The girl snickered around a bite of food. Tony leant forward and shut the transmission off. He had heard enough.

With the recording off, the only sounds in the car were the scratching of Natasha’s pen on paper, and Tony’s fingers drumming along the dashboard. Neither spoke as they both absorbed what they had heard.

When his partner had stopped writing, Tony cleared his throat, muttering, “I don’t know about you, Agent Romanoff…but I think Spider-Man might be homeless.”

“I think you’re right.” Natasha stared into space, lips parted.

She snapped into action, tossing her notebook aside and fiddling with the console until she had a touch-screen keyboard beneath her fingertips. A few lines of coding later, and a single file appeared on the screen before them.

_Peter Benjamin Parker. 17 years old. Missing._

 


	8. Chapter 8

It didn’t hurt as much as it used to. 

Sure, half the time Peter found himself desperately trying to outrun any thought or reminder of his past. And yeah, maybe he always had some kind of bad dream to shake himself awake from. But he could handle it. The pain was manageable now. Familiar.

The teen had accepted a long time ago that he would never be the same. There was no point in trying to hold onto any of his past selves, because there was a definitive _before_ and _after_ separating his memories. He measured his childhood in funerals and therapy sessions; navigated his world as places certain bad things happened. And god- there was a lot of bad.

Now was his after. This is who he was now; there was no going back. He made a conscious effort to keep his head pointed forwards. Daggers in his back no longer bothered him, as they had become a numbing normality, and he knew that taking the intrusions out would just leave him to bleed. Peter didn’t have time to bleed.

Peter swung through the New York fog, gaze steady through the constant rise and fall of his body. Ruby was out visiting her friends and busking. She lectured him about laying low since his run in with the Avengers, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Besides, web-slinging was one of the few things that could calm him down.

His heart lurched as he propelled upwards, then let himself plummet towards the concrete before bounding around high-rise office buildings at the last second in the abandoned district where they lived. He passed some fellow homeless folk on his afternoon swing, their gazes following him from their sparse hideouts. Some cheered as he made his way around, remembering all the times that Spider-Man was the only one who protected them. He waved back.

Peter came to a stop, skidding along the wet pavement before a familiar man. He didn’t know the Mexican man’s name, for he had refused to answer when he had asked.

“Hey, man,” Peter greeted, “How’s the nose?”

The man stared from where he crouched undercover, surrounded by his measly belongings. His crooked nose was high in the air, despite being bizarrely disfigured due to several breakages.

“Just fine. My buddy put it back in place after I told you to scram. Would you believe it’s the eighth time this has happened?” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Funnily enough, yeah.”

“Watch it, punk. You’re only tolerable after the second time you saved this old man’s life.” He warned, pointing a knobby finger in Spider-Man’s direction, no real heat behind his words, and a subtle grin tugging at his lips.

“Nah, you love me,” He rebutted playfully, “I’m just too likeable.”

Peter held his hands on his hips as he shared a chuckle with the man, when a scream pierced through the frigid air.

The vigilante whipped his head to attention. He spared a glance at the man as he jogged backwards.

“Duty calls.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

_“Sorry guys, but stealing is bad.” Peter jested to the pair of robbers he had webbed to the unkempt ground of the bodega._

_Said bodega was in disarray. By the time Spider-Man had made it to the scene, all of the racks and shelves had been knocked over, and there were a few bullet holes in the plaster beside the front counter, presumably warning shots. Peter had flipped in just in time to rid the thieves of their handguns before anyone could get hurt._

_He had made quick work of webbing up the thugs, before making sure the owner was alright. The stout Italian woman waved him off, but thanked him nonetheless, as she reached for her phone. He then found a few customers that had been hiding in the back of the store, all of whom had their phones out and pointed towards him._

_“Uh…Hey, guys. Everyone alright?” He waved lamely._

_After Peter had ushered the stragglers out of the building, he turned back to the thieves, pausing to lift their balaclavas to make sure he didn’t recognise them._

_A dry cough sounded behind him. Peter leapt over the robbers as he spun to face the noise._

_“Well, if it isn’t the infamous spiderling.” Tony Stark smirked in his direction._

_Stood directly next to him was the Black Widow. He felt her eyes scanning his form, analysing his every move as she readied a fighting stance, clenching her fists._

_Shit._

_Peter whipped his head from side to side, desperately trying to form an escape plan. He was huddled with his back to the corner of the front counter and the wall beside it, his feet firmly planted behind the perps still on the floor. Across from him stood two Avengers. He exchanged shocked looks with the robbers, who were also astounded at the new company._

_“Don’t freak out,” Mr. Stark spoke again, hands out in a placating gesture, “We just wanna talk.”_

_The pair blocked the front entrance._

_Peter scrunched his eyes shut and took a deep breath, before replying, “I know you’re the literal Avengers and all, but I’m gonna have to say no.”_

_He watched carefully as Mr. Stark bristled slightly. The man shoved his hands deeper in the pockets of his slacks and leant back on his heels, staring the boy down. Black Widow’s mask of indifference stayed in place._

_“Well, we’re gonna have to insist.”_

_The robbers’ eyes flicked back and forth with each statement._

_Peter shifted his weight, eyeing the ceiling panel to their left, and the beam linking it to the edge of the store. He eyed the Avengers, as well, contemplating how his entire life had led up to this moment, and re-evaluated all of his life choices._

_Tony Stark stood tall in his creaseless suit that was definitely worth more than every single one of Peter’s belongings combined. Black Widow stood tense, ready to pounce. Thank god for Peter’s goggles, or else she would have surely been able to track his eye movements and figure out his plan before he did._

_Talking to the Avengers would have been a dream come true years ago. But Peter wasn’t as naïve as he was years ago. He knew by ‘talk’, they meant ‘interrogate’, which would lead to all sorts of complications that he_ really _didn’t have time for. So he took another deep breath, and held his trembling fists to his sides._

_“I can’t believe I’m saying this to my childhood hero,” His voice started out shaky, but grew with confidence as he spoke, “But fuck off.”_

_Mr. Stark narrowed his eyes before breaking out into a grin. He chuckled as he jabbed a thumb in Peter’s direction and turned to his partner._

_“I like this kid.”_

_She gave him a disapproving look before turning back to Peter with a sigh._

_“Are you going to make us call backup?”_

_She seemed apathetic, which only made Peter panic more. And when Peter panicked, Peter fled._

_“Yes.”_

_With that, he flung himself to the ceiling and swung off the beam into the cold night air in a flash. It would have been a great escape, if only he hadn’t failed to notice the bug that Black Widow expertly managed to land on his wrist._

\--------------------------------------------------

Tony was perched on a nearby rooftop when he heard the scream.

“Stay here,” Nat ordered, “Your suit will blow our cover.”

He nodded curtly, face plate retracting as he turned to face his partner. He was itching to help, but knew the spy was right, and felt a little reassured as he watched her leap over rooftops, and Spider-Man swung towards the commotion.

He was a good kid, as far as Tony could tell. Still, Nat insisted on further surveillance, just to be sure. They had tailed him for a couple days, narrowly avoiding detection mostly thanks to Nat, and had witnessed all his good deeds. The kid stopped to help anyone and everyone, seemingly incapable of laying low for his own sake.

It felt wrong listening on his conversations with his friend Ruby. Besides, they had soon found that the pair only talked about their casual day-to-day lives. So far they had learnt that they were both wildly protective of the other, the girl worked at a bar despite being underage, while Spider-Man worked in a lab in his spare time. Their funds went towards essentials such as food, but also to helping other people in what the teens considered to be worse situations. Tony was constantly impressed.

So, they had stopped eavesdropping after a day, instead watching Spider-Man on his ‘secret’ patrols. It broke Tony’s heart half the time having to stay back and watch the kid get injured. They had figured out that he had some kind of enhanced reflexes or sixth sense to danger, as well as a healing factor. Both of which seemed to be faulty as of late.

The kid was far too thin to be physically exerting himself so much, let alone giving away food to fellow homeless people. Tony was planning on extending an invitation to house him at the tower. He was still working on convincing Nat, claiming that it would be easier to keep an eye on him. He had seen enough to trust the boy, especially after looking into his records.

Of course, there were some complications regarding the Accords and its stance on vigilantes, and Tony couldn’t simply house a child without CPS getting involved. But, considering the kid’s track record of running from halfway houses and foster homes, it was safe to say that he wouldn’t be interested in anything of the sort.

It wouldn’t be the first time Tony had defied the government.

Natasha came back twenty minutes later. She didn’t even look out of breath after leaping from rooftops, which Tony could never understand. He looked to her eagerly for information.

“He stopped three rapists,” She reported stoically, but clearly impressed, “Got a little busted up, but he swung off to his hideout after taking care of the girl.”

Tony took a deep breath, digesting the information, “He needs help.”

Nat sighed, treading over to lay a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “I know. But we still have a lot to figure out. With the government breathing down our necks, the last thing we need is to be caught housing an underage vigilante.”

Tony stood and shook his head as he faced away from the agent.

“Tony, we can keep him off their radar, and I’m convinced he doesn’t need monitoring right now. He’ll definitely need some guidance in the near future, and I know you would make an excellent mentor. But we have to play this right.”

“I know.”

\----------------------------------------------------------

Peter trudged onwards through the cold despite the aching in his ribs. His spidey sense, or lack thereof, was seriously starting to concern him. He caught those assholes literally with their pants down, and still managed to get beat up; at least in his opinion.

The event was only slightly triggering, except this time the uncontrollable emotions that flared up inside him weren’t an all-consuming shame and misery. This time he was furious. So much so, that he may have gotten a bit carried away with the main offender, giving the other two enough of an opportunity to land some blows to his ribs. Fortunately, he snapped out of it enough to finish the job. That didn’t stop him from crashing into the side of a nearby building in his haste, however.

The anger concerned him too, to a lesser extent than the state of his spidey sense, but was still jarring enough to put him off patrol for the rest of the day. He couldn’t afford anger, not when so many vulnerable people depended on him- not when he had super strength and could probably kill a man with one punch if he wasn’t careful.

Peter pushed the thoughts aside as he focused on making it to Ruby in time. Walking was much slower than swinging, and the limp he had sustained from the earlier epic wipe-out was not making the situation any easier. He shivered under the night sky, tugging his coat closer and doing his best to ignore the cold in favour of getting to his friend sooner.

When he finally arrived behind the bar, his shoes soaked through to his socks, he found Ruby huddled beneath the slight cover extending from the building’s roof. Under the glow of the streetlights, he found himself jogging closer as the girl stood up and frowned at him.

He was out of breath by the time he reached her, partially from the jog, but mostly from the panic.

“What’s wrong?”

She looked to her feet as she adjusted the strap to her bag and coughed.

“Ruby?”

After some hesitance, she glanced up at her friend through a thin veil of hair and sighed.

“I take it you haven’t seen the news.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Peter demanded, shifting on his feet.

Ruby looked away once more before striding into the cold, starting their walk home. Peter fell into step beside her, gaze never leaving her face.

“Something happened in Vienna. That assassin- the Winter Soldier- he bombed the UN at another meeting discussing the Accords…” She trailed off.

Peter turned his head to look forward, furrowing his brow as he drawled, “That’s terrible. But why are you so shaken up about it?”

“I’m not shaken up,” She was quick to rebut, finally turning to look at Peter, “It just- changed things. Kinda. I mean it’s not that bad, you don’t need to worry. I’m sure it’s fine.”

Peter stopped in his tracks. Ruby stopped just ahead of him, taking a moment before facing him.

“…What aren’t you telling me?”

Ruby exhaled deeply, looked to her feet, and muttered, “People are furious. All these government officials are pushing for the Accords to be ratified as they are, instead of being amended. They wanna add a stricter clause for vigilantes so that every enhanced person is identified and under control.”

Peter gaped for a second before looking away as his breathing picked up. Ruby shoved her hands deeper in her coat pockets.

“The King of Wakanda was one of the casualties.”

In a snap, Peter stormed forwards, Ruby close on his heels. His trembling hands found their way to his hair and started to tug painfully. His breaths came out in thick clouds in the winter air on a continuous loop, frantically in and out and in and out.

This could not be happening. This absolutely could not happen. Without his secret identity, he was just some homeless orphan on the loose. Every move he made would be monitored, every breath he took would be analysed- and how long would it take them to catch him? How could he protect his city with cops and reporters scouring the streets looking for him, not to mention the Avengers.

And when they did catch him, _unmask him_ , how long would it take them to find his files? What other hell hole would they send him to? He had been running from CPS and shitty adults for so long that he couldn’t even fathom the thought of having a home.

He could hear Ruby beside him, struggling to keep pace with his longer strides. She was talking, voice panicked and urgent, but he could hardly comprehend his own thoughts with how fast they were whirling, let alone her words.

Peter kept limping along in a haste, struggling to control his breathing as his mind ran a mile a minute. His legs moved on autopilot, steering both him and Ruby towards their makeshift nest. The wind howled as it raced past them, billowing their coats and blowing their hair wildly. They soldiered on.

****

** Chapter Eight: _Everything Goes Horribly_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!! sorry this update has taken so long lol
> 
> would you guys be interested in seeing some different POVs, like Ruby's? and which do you prefer, Peter's or Tony's?


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